


Hierarchy of Needs

by Anonymous



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: (due to miscommunication), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Asexual Character, Awkward Sexual Situations, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychology, Relationship Issues, Undiagnosed Mental Health Issues, way more angst than was intended
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no right answer, and Saguru thinks that at least the relationship has been good while it lasted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hierarchy of Needs

**Author's Note:**

> a small warning that this fic includes a lot of not-so-sunny feelings regarding asexuality/asexual relationships, for a considerable duration, as well as gratuitous discussion about sex/sexuality/etc. and a few mentions of canon-typical violence.

-v-

 

   They come to a mutual agreement not to give gifts on their anniversary.

   They are also, mutually, aware that the other is lying.

  
-v-

 

   Saguru is the one who proposes the idea. The two of them are taking a break from studying, and are sitting on Saguru's living room floor, facing each other from either side of game of Risk.

   The board game is one of the few relics that Saguru had been unable to leave behind in England, even though, at the time, he had intended his trip to Japan to be a short one. The game is old, vintage, a childhood possession of his uncle's that had been passed to him without fanfare. The countries are named and arranged in such a way that predates even his own birth.

   Kaito's army is blue, and Saguru's is green. For now, their troops are scattered in a precisely equal number across the board. The neutral army is almost wiped out, with one sole red cavalry idling in India.

   With a dice roll, Kaito begins his mission of obliterating it completely.

   Saguru watches, fondly, as Kaito tosses the cavalry unit into the box before he counts out four individual red troops, fingers agile and careful. He sits them in chaotic little circle, then rolls the dice again.

   At first, Kaito hadn't been interested in the game at all, claiming pacifism. Now, he only seems relieved that Saguru doesn't fill their study breaks with Cluedo instead.

   ("Or Mousetrap, for that matter," Kaito had added once, idly flicking one of Saguru's defeated soldiers off the board. He hadn't appreciated that.)

   When Kaito's turn ends, Saguru moves his troops and takes the red dice, and hands the blue ones over in turn. "I'm taking East Africa."

   And Kaito rolls his eyes, because half this game has been a battle for East Africa. "That's what you think."

   Over a year of knowing each other, and Kaito still doesn't understand that Saguru likes to play the long game.

   But it's balanced out, in a way, because Saguru still can't tell if Kaito is messing with the dice somehow when he isn't looking.

   "Anniversary's coming up," Saguru remarks, as though it has anything to do with what they're doing at the moment, but he can't help that it's been playing on his mind for weeks. "If you care about that sort of thing." 

   He doesn't say it maliciously. Before, Saguru had always thought that celebrating the anniversary of anything other than a wedding was frivolous and pointless. Only after they fell into their relationship did he start looking forward to it as some kind of achievement. Whether Kaito feels the same, or even remembers the date at all, he has yet to find out.

   Kaito, as usual, sends blue dice flying halfway across the room. "Distraction tactic? I thought you were better than that." He gives Saguru a look before he gets up to fetch them from underneath the coffee table. "Six and four."

   "Damn." Saguru's roll had been pathetic. "And no, it isn't a distraction tactic. I thought I'd better bring it up before you get any ideas."

   Kaito seems like the type to get ideas. He seems like the type to get ideas and then take them too far, and Saguru ha s almost no doubt in his mind that left unchecked, Kaito will pile him with flowers and confectionery and other such uncomfortable displays of affection that Saguru prefers to avoid.

   (He _thought_ he'd dodged a bullet on Valentine's day when all he'd received was a simple box of chocolates on his schooldesk, until paper hearts rained down from the ceiling at the night's heist and Kid had made a show of kissing half the Task Force on the cheek, Saguru included. If not for those damn handcuffs, Saguru would have throttled him right there and then -- it had been damn obvious that he was the only one blushing after Kid had scampered off giggling and the lights had come back up on full.)

   "Are you saying that you have _better_  ideas?" Kaito says, grinning in a way that Saguru knows by now is intended to be suggestive. This time, it's the red dice that end up under the coffee table.

   Kaito, gentleman that he is, fetches the dice for him. Saguru resists the urge to sound stern when he says, "I'm saying that it would be best if we forego the presents."  
  
   "Aww," Kaito says, and Saguru braces himself for a barrage of complaints. "Will you at least let me buy you dinner?"

   The roll is another bad one. Saguru begins to rearrange his armies into neat horizontal rows even though, with the game is going, they'll be knocked of the board in mere minutes. "No."

   Kaito has never bought him dinner. When they dine out, the bill is split fifty-fifty, as it should be.

   "Are you serious?" The grin slips from Kaito's face, as though he thought the entire conversation was a joke up until this point. Saguru does not waver. "Do you even want to see me at all?"

    _Yes_ , Saguru thinks, helplessly. He knows that Kaito wouldn't phrase it that way for any reason other than to bait a fight; he has prepared for this. He also knows that there is only one correct answer. 

   "If you want to," he replies, curtly. 

   Kaito only blinks at him.

   "Alright," he says, eventually, placing the red dice on the board instead of handing them to Saguru directly. "No presents."

  
-v-

  
   (Saguru is aware that for most of their relationship, his idea of a mutual agreement has been somewhat skewed from what it might have been before.

   Kaito doesn't say no to anything. A pacifist. He tells people that his life motto is _just say yes_ , but Saguru has always taken it for being afraid of confrontation. Rejection? As though perhaps, if he says yes to everyone, everyone will say yes to him in return.

   He tries not to psychoanalyse his boyfriend. He really does.)

  
-v-

  
   The anniversary looms on the horizon like the darkest of storm clouds, and Saguru tries to keep busy so that he doesn't have to acknowledge it. He was lucky with Valentines day; they had both been busy with other things back then, and exams were approaching, so the expectations were low. Mutually.

   This time of year, the baking heat of summer, is the worst. The anniversary of their first date is on June 5th, and then Kaito's birthday just a few weeks after, and then Saguru's own two months after that. The topic can only be avoided for so many of these special occasions. Even Kaito's endless pacifism will run out of steam eventually.

   Saguru finds himself wandering through shopping malls after school, by himself after abandoning his friends at the gates, lying through his teeth about having homework to finish. Even this early in the school year, his bag is heavy, the train journey and subsequent walk stretching on forever because of it.

   He buys a bottle of water near the station and a million women's magazines stare back at him from one side. Those front pages have been catching his eye a lot, lately. He doesn't care much for losing ten pounds in as many days, or the fashion faux pas of some celebrity he's barely heard of; but there are some which brag, in bold pink writing, that they know exactly how to keep one's man from straying, how to blow his mind, how to please.

   At the last second, he snatches one from the shelf and pays for it, ignoring the strange look the cashier gives him.

   His bag feels all the heavier for having the magazine in it. The crowds of the shopping centre swallow him up, and in his uniform, he blends seamlessly in with the masses. Sometimes, it's a blessing that he isn't quite famous enough to be recognised.

   He looks at enrichment toys in pet stores, but Kaito doesn't keep his doves in cages. Aisles and aisles of clothes that would look great on him, Belgian chocolates he would like, music he would probably sing along to if he heard it on the radio; Saguru's eyes linger on them, even though they shouldn't.

   Kaito is going to buy him something.

   He is going to expect something in return.

   There is no right answer, and Saguru thinks that at least the relationship has been good while it lasted.

  
-v-

  
   He takes a detour on the way home, after a quick phone call to Baaya to assure her that he hasn't been kidnapped and isn't up to no good, he promises. He hangs up with the new knowledge that there will be leftovers in the fridge tonight, and takes a moment to brace himself before approaching the back door of the laboratory.

   His key-card gets him in without an issue. The place is closed for the night, the stark white corridors deserted and gloomy without the usual florescent lighting. He walks along with his hands in his pockets, focusing on nothing but his destination until he arrives at the lab with the equipment he's looking for. The same equipment that he's always looking for when he comes here at this hour. 

   Whoever checks the security tapes must think he's a complete hypochondriac, the amount of times he's come around in the last few months just to fish cotton swabs and test tubes and chemicals out of the cupboards and lay them carefully out on the bench. He seats himself in a chair, and swabs the back of his throat with a finesse that only comes with practice.

   While the tests run, he makes himself comfortable with the magazine and waits.

   By the time he leaves, he has learned a lot. Has has learned that beards are considered sexy now, which they apparently were not just a few weeks ago. He has learned twenty creative and borderline-abusive revenge strategies for cheating. He has learned, perhaps most importantly, that the columnists of women's magazines have clearly never slept with possibly even spoke to a man before, considering the nightmarish acts described within, most of which either involve sugary foods or literal gymnastics.

   Which, on second thoughts, would probably be right up Kaito's alley. 

   He tucks the results paper into his back pocket, letting the main door close and lock itself behind him.

   Tonight, he has also learned that, as usual, his hormone levels are completely, indisputably, and disappointingly ordinary.

  
-v-

  
   "So hear me out."

   Saguru has a feeling this isn't the kind of conversation that should be had in the school cafeteria over lunch, rushed while Aoko has gone to the bathroom. "I'm listening," he says, without looking up from his book.

   They are sitting opposite from each other. Saguru feels more than he sees Kaito clasp his hands on the table. "I found a restaurant," he says, like it's a brilliant secret.

   "How ever did you manage that?"

   Saguru can't bite back the sarcasm, but Kaito ignores the remark and continues to sound quite pleased with himself. "It's a British one."

   Saguru raises an eyebrow. He's still staring, aimlessly, at the centre of the book, the fold between the pages. "Is it a pub?"

   "We can get in."  
  
   "Legally?"

   " _Yes_ , legally, I checked." As if Saguru would expect anything less. "I thought it would be fun, you know, to get out on the town a little...?" 

   Kaito draws out the last word, sort of subtly bouncing in his seat, and he has a warped idea of what fun is, but Saguru doesn't tell him so.

   Kaito takes the silence for what it is - trepidation. "We'd split the bill," the adds, like it's an incentive.

   "Mm," Saguru says, non-committally. It's the exact same sound he made back when Kaito suggested dinner and a movie for their third date - displeased, but like he was at least making an effort to be polite about it. Even back then, he had consumed enough romantic literature and movies to know what was supposed to happen on the third date. The late walk home, the kisses, the invitation inside for coffee...

   They hardly ever went on dates any more, after that. He misses them, (they both do), but Saguru has always felt that the tradition lingered on, simply waiting its turn.

   Kaito tries again. "Fifty-fifty. I swear."

    _But it won't be fifty-fifty after the flowers I know you'll bring_ , is what Saguru doesn't say, even though it's on the very tip of his tongue. No matter what Saguru does, Kaito will always do more. Such is his nature.

   Saguru turns a page he hasn't read. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

   From the look Kaito gives him, he might as well have suggested that they go to church.

  
-v-

  
   (It was about a month after the relationship began that Saguru had realised that he was cursed with the world's worst luck.

   Up until then, he had, admittedly, been feeling very lucky. He wasn't likely to admit it any time soon, but he was more than aware that Kaito was popular with the girls, even if he seemed quite oblivious to the attention. And even though _Kaito_ wouldn't admit it, Saguru knew that the Kaitou Kid regularly came into contact with high school detectives who were more famous and experienced than he was. Some of them were even female.

   But it didn't matter. Kaito had said yes to him. Just like he said yes to everything.

   And it had been plain sailing, until Saguru had tried to tell his family.

   His mother would be no problem. One Skype call, and she'd probably beam about it, because everything he did seemed to make her proud, even skipping off halfway across the world to catch a jewel thief. All he would have to worry about with her is the demand to video chat with Kaito, and then the subsequent reminders of what a lovely, handsome young man he is, as though Saguru would actually need reminding.

   His  _father_ , on the other hand...

   For all his observations and analyses, Saguru genuinely had no idea how his father would feel about the matter. What he _did_ know was that, in all likelihood, he wouldn't actually find out until years and years later, when he'd get a phone call from a lawyer informing him that he'd been written out of his father's will way back when, and even that seemed extreme considering he was an only child.

   So the worst case scenario was a slight increase to the awkwardness that already permeated most of their interactions. 

   As an attempt to soften to the blow, Saguru had taken him out to dinner. It was a ritual he - along with every other child in the world - had been practising since he was old enough to talk. Catch a parent in a good mood, and they'll let you away with almost anything. Catch a parent in public, and they won't want to cause a scene. Combining the two was usually the best tactic, and so that was what he did.

   So they had dressed up and gone out, and after they'd ordered, Saguru's father had turned the mood intense and said, "So, you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about...?"

   "Gay men fuck _all_ the time."

   The restaurant went dead silent.

   Saguru turned, reflexively, to see the drunken businessman at the table behind him in a deep conversation with another, apparently equally drunken, man, who made a sound like he didn't quite believe it.

   Saguru hated him for that. Now it warranted an explanation.

   "Because- no, okay-" the first man said. The ambient chatter began to pick up again, in hesitant trickles, as though the other patrons were just as desperate to drown out this conversation as Saguru himself was. "Men are horny all the time, right?"

   "Right," the second man said, as though this was just a perfectly reasonable fact. Saguru turned back around and attempted to drink his entire glass of water in one go, just to avoid looking his father - or anyone else - in the eyes.

   "But women? Women don't give a shit! They only put out when they _want something_ ," the man slurred. Water leaked from the corner of Saguru's mouth. "With no women around, it's just _constant_ fucking. There's none of this shit about - about _headaches_ or whatever..."

   The second man raised his glass - Saguru heard it clink against the table as it was lifted. "Amen," he said.

   Saguru's father cleared his throat. Saguru just looked at the table, with a determination that must have been obvious, but he didn't care. He could feel the burning heat of his embarrassment, written clearly in the red flush on his cheeks.

   "They get it." The first man just would not stop talking. "They just fuckin'... get it. And that's why I respect 'em."

   Saguru closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that the reason he felt sick was from drinking too much water too quickly.

   When he eventually managed to glance up, and un-stick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, it was when the first course had arrived and the men had been bluntly told to quiet down or leave the premises. Saguru knew that the displeasure on his father's face was from the conversation they'd unwillingly overheard, and not anything that he had done, but still, it was enough to silence him.

   "What did you want to talk about?" he prompted again.

   "A case," Saguru had replied, as though they ever talked about anything else.)

 

-v-

  
   The day before the anniversary, Saguru scrolls through travel websites, Tokyo-to-London flights for half an hour before he can let himself really consider the consequences.

    It's just an idle fantasy, of course. 

    Which only makes it worse. He should not be fantasising about leaving the country just to get out of a date with someone he is committed to. That takes his avoidance to a whole other level.

   He closes the tab and then, as an afterthought, clears his browser history as well.

   He's worrying himself guilty and sick for no reason, and there's no excusing it. They will meet at eleven, and admire the grass and the trees and eat ice cream as they amble along, like children. There will be nothing romantic about it.

   This isn't Kaito's fault at all, but considering Saguru's recent behaviour, Kaito probably won't even want to hold hands. 

   The thing is that, while Saguru has always prided himself on his level headedness, but if Kaito shows up with gifts, he legitimately has no idea what he's going to do. It can only escalate from here. The way a serial killer grows bolder with every murder, Kaito will start big and only get bigger. Roses on the anniversary will become a box of horribly expensive chocolates on his birthday will become a watch at Christmas will become a trip to Egypt for graduation. And that's just assuming Kaito doesn't _start_  with the vacation, or something even more extravagant, which he very well could, and the debt will just keep piling up.

  
-v-

  
   (There have been times when Saguru has wondered if he and Kaito are really together at all.

   The thoughts are pervasive, insidious ones that only approach him on tentative feet when he's settled into bed for the night, when his mind has nowhere else to wander except in the directions he doesn't want it to. He tells himself that it's better than flashbacks to old cases, corpses and injured children and suicides - but doesn't know if that's true, because at least those things are in the past.

   They don't go on regular dates, at Saguru's request, but they still spend time alone together at almost every opportunity. They kiss, sometimes, but not as much as other couples, probably, and not with the same intensity. Saguru had put a firm stop to anything more than closed-mouth kisses after the fourth or fifth time they'd gotten carried away and he'd felt Kaito hard against his thigh and the cold, heavy sensation that settled in his chest when he realised that he wasn't in the same condition. The guilt had become unbearable.

   So Saguru had suggested they take it slow. Glacier-slow, even. And Kaito had said yes, and never pushed for anything, never even tried, waiting for Saguru to make the first move while Saguru was busy contemplating if he should just tell Kaito that he's waiting for marriage. That would postpone his worries for at least another few years, if they could even survive in a sexless relationship for that long.

   In the mean time, he will continue to research. Every other day, he finds himself taking online self-tests for every mental illness under the sun that could possibly cause sexual dysfunction, but even then, he knows that that is not what this is. The websites imply that there's a hair's breadth between libido and sex drive, but for him, it's a canyon. His hormones are running appropriately wild for his age -- it just doesn't translate to _wanting_.

   If this weren't a real relationship, if they weren't _really together_ then he wouldn't constantly have the weight on his back; the knowledge that he's tearing a good thing to shreds, piece by piece, throwing up barriers around every good thing. If this weren't a real relationship then he would be open to ending it quickly, instead of gradually killing it off in some fractured attempt at self-preservation.)

  
-v-

  
   On the morning of the 5th, Saguru decides to wear his favourite underwear, just in case. He hadn't been particularly aware that he even had a favourite pair, but he feels marginally more confident, so he comes to the conclusion that that must be why.

   He dresses and kills time sorting through the little shoebox he keeps in one of his desk drawers. It's full of paraphernalia from personal education classes: leaflets and booklets mostly printed in English, full of vaguely-worded advice about Being Ready and Natural Urges and Different Kinds of Intimacy followed by detailed drawings of reproductive organs, a resource on testicular self-examinations, and a few out-of-date condoms that he can't bring himself to get rid of for reasons he can't discern.

   At the same time, he wonders what Kaito is doing. Probably something very different, if he had to guess. He slips one of the booklets into his wallet - the one about losing virginity. It's the most worn of all of them, even though most of the information revolves around hymens and peer pressure and Saguru is pretty sure neither of those things are going to be relevant today.

   At ten, Saguru puts the box back in the drawer, brushes his teeth for a second time, throws up into the toilet and quickly convinces himself that the toothbrush triggered his gag reflex, brushes his teeth again, steels his nerves, grabs his keys, and leaves for the park.

  
-v-

  
   (As a child, Saguru had a fear of birds.

   It was embarrassing in hindsight, as most things were. Saguru had still been at the young age where his teachers fawned over him for reading books and playing architect with the Lego, and more and more often, he was hearing the word 'gifted' applied to him, and internalising it in a way that other children would not.

   Even then, he had been too young to really understand the nuances of psychology, even though he wanted to. He wanted to understand everything.

   Most appealing to these teachers was the growing revelation that Saguru could be natively bilingual. Everyone had been excited about it, with the sole exception of Saguru, who had his doubts as to whether hiding on the staircase and eavesdropping on all his mother's phone calls really counted as native language acquisition. He was dedicated to mirroring her, adopting her vocabulary and her accent over the first few years of his life.

   The day his second language was officially graded as fluent was the same day he came face to face with a seagull for the very first time.

   It was an occasion, his mother had told him. He had been taken out of school for the test, and then treated to whatever he wanted, so they walked hand-in-hand down a crowded street in Ekoda until Saguru had decided that what he actually wanted was this manga that all the kids in his class had been reading, (trying to read), (while not appreciating it in the least when he tried to help them sound out their words).

   It was nothing but a blur of white in his periphery at first, a ruffle of feathers and a rush of air just past his left ear, but Saguru had quick reflexes. He turned his head, following the shape of the gull just in time to see it slam into the hood of a car and fall, lifeless, to the road, leaving a bloodied dent in its wake.

   Saguru had watched the driver halt for only a moment, getting out and kicking the dead bird into the gutter before getting back into his car and speeding off again.

   "Darling..." his mother had began, concerned, but Saguru had just taken her hand again and walked, silently, towards the bookstore.

   He would later learn that this was called 'latency'.

   After that, he would flinch away from caged budgies in pet shops, tug on his mother's sleeve and tearfully demand to leave. A pigeon on the playground was enough to send him screaming and crying, and so his parents took him to a therapist in a clinical, white building which would, in time, come to remind him of his own family's laboratory.

   But the room the therapist brought him into wasn't clinical or white at all. The carpet was plush and thick, immaculate cream from wall to wall. The chairs were comfortable, and on one of the walls there was a triptych of photographs of large pebbles on sand, cast in tones of brown and grey.

   They talked for a time, about Saguru's school (boring) and his friends (sparse) and his home life (ordinary). When the therapist asked if Saguru knew what a phobia was, he rattled off the definition without a problem.

   When she asked if he understood the meaning, he admitted that he did not.

   To him, every fear was a rational one. He could come up with a list of reasons why birds scared him; the wingspan, the ever-watching black eyes and the unpredictable ways that they moved, and the space they took up when they did. There was the fact that they carried diseases and the possibility of being mauled by their talons. And the worst of his fears, the one he couldn't vocalize - the fear of watching something helpless and small die in front of his eyes and being unable to do a thing about it. There was everything to be afraid of.

   The therapist told him that there was not. That his fear was irrational.

   She was quick to assure him that a phobia was nothing to be ashamed of, but not quick enough to change how Saguru felt. Precocious children were treated like glass. In Saguru's mind, she was the first to tell him that he was being silly; that it needed to change.)

  
-v-

  
   Saguru shows up to the park half an hour early and finds Kaito already waiting for him, perched on the side of the fountain they had agreed to meet at.

   It's something they've gradually gotten used to. Saguru is almost always early (sometimes by hours, sometimes only minutes), and now, Kaito is usually early as well. In his younger years -- his 'walking dictionary' years -- Saguru might have called it synchronicity.

   The park is mostly tourists ooh-ing and aah-ing over the rows of maple trees that line the plaza; or slender, fitness-minded people jogging along with eyes straight ahead, having already seen it all. What few children there are look thoroughly bored, being led along by their parents and encouraged to admire the foliage - one such child, Saguru is amused to notice, is walking along with a PSP under her nose, completely unaware of her surroundings.

   Somehow, Kaito manages to make his ensemble of a plain grey t-shirt and dark, almost black jeans look like it was perfectly crafted to enhance his every feature. Saguru approaches him from behind, admiring the way the soft-looking fabric of his shirt falls over the careful lines of his shoulders and back.

   "Kuroba," is his greeting, and he stands there with his hands in his pockets, imposing at Kaito's side, catching only a glimpse of a week-old heist report before the phone is put away. 

   Kaito turns to face him. He has a white rose tucked behind one ear, and _god_ the thorn must be pricking the hell out of him, but he doesn't let on. "Hakuba," he replies, deadpan. He pats the space beside him, and Saguru sits down on the concrete ledge.

   Saguru smirks at him. He can't help it. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks, clearly not meaning the pleasure of Kaito's company.

   Kaito rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee, and grins. "Aoko wanted me to be pretty for our date." He makes a pouty face, like he's posing for an imaginary photograph - but only for a moment, and then he sobers as much as someone can with a flower in their hair. "She said it might cheer you up."

   If only she knew.

   "What makes you think I need cheering up?"

   "I did tell her that there's nothing for it," Kaito explains with a shrug. "She just wouldn't take my word that you're a grump by nature. I told her you were born that way. Were you a grumpy baby, Hakuba?"

   "Maybe." Saguru looks out over the treeline, the grey skyscrapers rising like mountains behind it. The sun is out, and everyone is wearing short sleeves. You can't pull flowers from short sleeves. At least it's just the one, then. "I never really got along with Kids my age."  
  
   Kaito is stunned silent for a moment - as expected, it doesn't go over his head in the least. " _Someone_ 's stepping into my territory with a pun like that," he says, _beams_ really. "My protégé." He pauses, then takes the rose between his thumb and forefinger and offers it to Saguru like it's made of glass. "My pun-té-gé."

   It's almost a miracle that Saguru has never once questioned his own taste.

  
-v-

 

   The thing that Saguru really _loathes_  about Kaito is that he's such good company.

   Which means that when they take a second trip back to the ice-cream parlor and get double servings, Saguru doesn't realise that it's because it's lunchtime.

   After they've seen everything the park has to offer, they take to the streets. Kaito insists on going into every clothing and cosmetics store they pass (claiming that it's for Aoko's birthday, and it would be a decent lie if Saguru didn't know what he knows), and then they end up at an arcade where Kaito wins an unreasonable amount of tickets and cashes them in on a white unicorn plush toy, which he hands to Saguru with a grin.

   On the way out, Saguru has the unicorn toy in one hand and Kaito's fingers entwined with his own fingers of the other, feeling utterly ridiculous but strangely light at the same time. He doesn't let go until he decides to buy a cup of coffee and gets a glimpse of the cyan edge of the virginity leaflet sticking out of his wallet. After that, he walks with the unicorn under his arm and his hands firmly in his trouser pockets.

   And when the low rumbles of hunger begin again, and Saguru realises that it's because the sun has been setting outside of the antique store they have somehow ended up in, he legitimately cannot believe that time has gotten away from him for once.

   "How about that dinner?" Kaito suggests, entirely reasonably, as they're leaving the store.

   As airily as he can, Saguru says, "That depends where the restaurant is." He hopes it's very far away, so he can make an excuse about the time and Baaya and hurry home and end their date with the last dregs of the daylight.

   It isn't the right answer.

   "We'd have to take the train, but half this street is restaurants." Kaito stops in the middle of the pavement and makes a broad, sweeping gesture, and Saguru is painfully aware that he's right. There's an Indian, a Thai and an Italian place all within twenty steps of where they're standing. "So if you don't feel like travelling, take your pick -- _not_  my treat."

   Kaito winks at him, and Saguru's excuses die on his tongue.

   No gifts; no bouquet, no meals paid for, no surprises but that solitary flower. It's so unlike Kaito in every way.

    Saguru can tell he's trying, even if he doesn't know what he's trying  _for._

   "We'll go to the one you picked out," he decides. "You were right. It should be fun."

  
-v-

  
   (In the end, Saguru had raised a hawk and named it after one of his favourite things.)

  
-v-

  
   They eat well that night. The owner of the restaurant is an Englishman who mans the bar (and Saguru doesn't bother hissing at Kaito that that means they shouldn't _be here_ , because he knows Kaito will say, hey, the worst case scenario is a memory made), and he takes an instant shine to the magician, like everyone does. In the end, it nets them free dessert and not that much privacy, which is a good thing, because as much as Saguru wishes he was in the mood for murmured admissions of love by candlelight or tacky noodle-sharing kisses, he just isn't.

   When they leave, it's pitch black outside but for the streetlights. Saguru tries to head in the general direction of a nearby taxi, but then Kaito takes both of his hands and he is anchored.

   "Come home with me?" Kaito asks, so softly and gently that Saguru almost believes that the words are a figment of his imagination. Kaito takes Saguru's wrist and raises it to his lips, kisses the inside, over his pulse, tenderly. When he smiles, Saguru can feel the movement against his skin.

   Saguru used to think that he was above falling for these charms.

   For the first time in a long time, he says, "yes."

  
-v-

  
   (A clean bill of mental health and perfectly balanced hormones. The only explanation left is phobia. Phobia of intimacy, of Kaito's body; a phobia to be overcome with exposure like any other.

   The therapy is already well under way. He has already read all of those leaflets, and several anatomy textbooks, and gotten as familiar with the human body as he can without performing dissections. He doesn't need a professional to help him along this time.

   Strangely, he doesn't feel any more prepared to deal with the real thing just from gathering information about it, as he did with the birds all those years ago.

   Regardless, he tells himself that after the first time, it will be alright.

   If he can handle corpses, he can handle this.)

  
-v-

  
   Kaito's house is dead and dark and empty as always when they come in through the front door. It's something Saguru has always considered unnerving. The place feels like it isn't lived in, without a mother or a housekeeper. With the amount of time that Kaito spends at school and at Saguru's house, out with Aoko, and consulting at heists: Saguru supposes that he really only sleeps here these days.

   Kaito trips out of his shoes and abandons Saguru in the genkan, calling something over his shoulder about needing to straighten up his bedroom. So Saguru takes his shoes off alone, and waits in the kitchen with the lights out until Kaito calls him upstairs, after just a few minutes.

   He leaves the unicorn toy on the counter when he goes.

   As expected, Kaito's room is perfectly neat; because, as expected, Kaito had a plan. Every surface is dotted with tea light candles, and in the darkness, they look like stars in the night sky.

   And Kaito is in the middle of it all, sitting on his bed. He pats the space next to him and Saguru sits down like muscle memory, his brain all in static, as though this whole thing is scripted and all he has to do is play a part.

   The candles make it feel like it's just the two of them, together in a tiny cosmos.

   Kaito takes his hand, and for a while they just sit there, looking at nothing in particular. Saguru thinks Kaito might be looking at him, but he can't be sure.

   "This is what you wanted, right?"

   Kaito asks the question like he isn't even asking at all; more like looking for confirmation on something he already knows.

   Saguru doesn't have a clue why, but he laughs. It comes out more good-natured than hysterical. That surprises him. "What?" He catches himself, and coughs before he adds, "...do you mean by that?"

   Kaito shrugs, but keeps his shoulders raised while he talks. "You kept talking about not giving gifts, so I figured you were hinting that what you really wanted was... something else." The weight of his implication hangs in the air, and Saguru wants to laugh again, but all that comes out is a sort of choked, breathless sound from deep in his throat. Kaito seems to sense the tension, and even in the shadow, Saguru can see the way his face lights up with a toothy grin. "Such as my virginity, for example."

   Oh no. "...So the flower was...?"

   For the first time in about twelve years, Saguru wants to cry.

   Kaito shrugs again, and then squeezes his hand. "Another genius idea from Aoko," he says, playing it off like it's something light. From the way he avoids eye contact, Saguru thinks that he is probably lying. "I liked it, though," he continues. "And I always thought taking it slow meant it would be more special when it actually happened, so... here we are."

   "Here we are," Saguru repeats. Yes. Here they are; Kaito's edging slightly closer and his heart is not beating anywhere as quickly as he expected. It doesn't feel like it's beating at all.

   Kaito leans in to kiss him on the cheek. Saguru feels the brush of his lips, but he doesn't pull away more than a few centimetres to mumble, "I have condoms."

   "Great." Saguru nods, and then just keeps nodding, as though it will help him digest what Kaito is talking about. "I suppose we'll need them."

   He doesn't add that he has a leaflet in his wallet. It would likely break the mood, those diagrams of broken hymens.

   He stops nodding when Kaito says -- _breathes_  -- "Can I kiss you?"

   This time, Saguru doesn't say yes. Instead, he says, "Of course."

   Saguru doesn't often like to admit when other people are good at things, but there has never been any doubt that Kaito kisses nicely, even with the limitations that Saguru has given. Of all the people Saguru has kissed before (which is, admittedly, quite a few), Kaito is the only one whose mouth has never been obscured by tacky lip gloss or pigment that comes off on Saguru's own lips and has to be inelegantly wiped off with the back of his hand afterwards.

   He's the only one who has always tasted faintly of chocolate in a way that must be on purpose. 

   He has wondered before if Kid would taste the same, or like something less comforting and familiar, like spearmint or cherry daiquiri or pure sugar.

   "Lie down?" Kaito says. It's not an order, but a suggestion, and he appreciates that.  
  
   Saguru is closer to the headboard, so he pulls his legs up onto the mattress and then settles with his head on one of Kaito's pillows, which smells overwhelming like the fruity shampoo he uses. If he goes to bed with wet hair, Saguru thinks, that  _would_ explain why it's so messy all the time. He tries to focus on this deduction and not the jarring stiffness of his limbs, supine like a body on a gurney. He can't help remembering a childhood of cartoons where victims were tied this way over train-tracks.

   The candles are just a blur in his periphery by the time Kaito settles over him, crawling on his hands and knees from the foot of the bed until they're aligned enough for their lips to meet again.

   It's been a long time since they've been like this. Saguru has come to associate it with past make-out sessions on the couch, the sensation of teeth nipping at his neck; Kaito's arousal, his own discomfort, and the taste of chocolate.

   He wishes that they were talking. At least Kaito's voice has a chance of drowning out his own consciousness, which reminds him that he has come too far to stop now.

   Really, accepting the invitation to the bedroom was 'too far'. Being told, straight out, that Kaito has expectations of penetrative sex and has prepared for it accordingly, was the final point at which he could have claimed that he didn't know what he was getting into.

   But he does know. He's known for months, since that ruined restaurant dinner with his father.

   Saguru notices that his hands are shaking, so he buries his fingers in Kaito's hair. "Say something," he says. It barely sounds like his own voice at all. "Talk to me."

   "What should I talk about?" Kaito muses, and _his_ voice sounds entirely normal: carefree and relaxed and everything Saguru is not.

   (Saguru has no idea how he is going to handle hearing this voice again tomorrow, and the next day. That's the problem with an eidetic memory: tonight will linger on the edges of his consciousness forever, whether he wants it to or not.)

   While Saguru thinks it over, Kaito leans in close and presses a kiss to his earlobe, and then another further down, soft against his jaw. Saguru shivers and closes his eyes.

   "Have you done this before?" Saguru asks him, even though he doesn't really want to know, one way or the other. "Well, not... _this_ , just... anything?"

   "Are you asking for a run-down of my sexual history?" Kaito kisses his lips again, and Saguru thinks, _why not_? They haven't talked about this, and it isn't until now that he realises how overwhelmingly wrong that is. "Lucky for you, I haven't done anything like this before, no."

   Saguru exhales sharply through his nose. "Lucky for me?" There's contempt in his tone, coming from somewhere he can't place.

   "Yes," Kaito replies, going for the top button of Saguru's shirt. He unfastens it with deft fingers. "You get to experience my _in_ experience in all its glory." He's joking, and Saguru doesn't know how he can joke at a time like this. He finishes with the buttons, and then he adds, "Take off my shirt?"

   Saguru has to sit up to do it. His own shirt, which had been only slightly open, shifts with the movement and leaves him more exposed. He takes the bottom of the garment and pulls, his knuckles sliding over the smooth and warm skin of Kaito's sides, and Kaito raises his arms but the shirt still gets tangled around his elbows and he laughs and finishes removing it himself, either not noticing or deliberately not acknowledging Saguru's mortification at having messed it up.

   Kaito tosses his shirt away, and then finishes removing Saguru's shirt and tosses that away too.

   For a while, they just look at each other. From this angle, Kaito looks like a cross between a demon and a model, the way he's crouched over Saguru, backlit and imposing, his hair even more erratic than usual and his eyes darker than they should be. He's toned and lean, fit but not strong, smaller without his clothes. The contrast of his bare stomach to the top of his jeans reminds Saguru of the windswept young men whose portraits stare down from the walls of clothing stores.

   Suddenly, Kaito is kissing him again, hungrily and without restraint.

   He wonders how it must have felt, all this time, to have wanted this. It feels a little self-congratulatory to assume that Kaito has _dreamed_ about it, but he must have thought about it as much as Saguru has. Enough to buy candles and prophylactics. Probably more.

   There's soft breath against his ear; Kaito's voice, distant, and Saguru doesn't understand what he's saying but he nods anyway.

   And then, just as suddenly, Kaito's hand is down the front of his trousers and his heart misses a beat.

   "Oh." Kaito's skin is hot to the touch; he's blushing in the darkness. "You aren't...?"

   Saguru isn't.

   He swallows. His mouth has gone very dry. "No."

   "That's okay!" Kaito removes his hand, and Saguru is relieved for all of about two seconds before he moves down the bed - just enough for Saguru to know exactly what he's going to do next. Kaito licks over his bottom lip and grins, his eyes glinting. "But I can do something about it, if you like."

   Saguru slides a hand into Kaito's hair again, and nods. He's been doing that a lot today.

   Kaito peppers kisses over his chest, down his abdominal muscles, taking his time. It would feel better if Saguru didn't know where it was going.

   His body has never reacted to Kaito before, at least not in person, but that doesn't mean that it _can't_. He is healthy. He should be bubbling over with arousal by now.

   (He tries not to imagine what will happen when Kaito takes off his trousers, takes off his underwear and realises that nothing is happening and Saguru won't be able to hide it any more, that something isn't right with him--) 

   Reflectively, he tightens his grip when Kaito gets level with his belt, and he abruptly becomes aware that he isn't breathing.

   "Wait."

   Kaito waits, looking up at Saguru expectantly.

   "I need a minute." 

   "Sure," Kaito says, ever the understanding boyfriend. He backs off and sits up in the middle of the bed, with his calves tucked under him, leaving Saguru to calm his heartbeat as much as he can.

   Usually, Kaito would take up his obnoxious habit of counting down from sixty, but despite Saguru's expectations, he doesn't do anything of the sort.

   Saguru stares at the ceiling. He can't see it, but the gloom is more appealing than anything else to focus on. 

   The minute passes. Saguru desperately tries to find something, _anything_  he could say to pull this back together. He could offer to do something for Kaito, but then he would definitely notice the way his hands are still trembling. He could tell Kaito to just do it already, to take him on his front so that maybe he won't notice Saguru's lack of a physical response until it's all over, but the idea is paralysing and even if Kaito could forgive Saguru for not wanting him, he would never, _ever_  forgive him for letting him do something like that with unenthusiastic consent. 

   After exactly two minutes of tense silence, Kaito gets off the bed. When Saguru sits up on his elbows and looks, he finds him walking around the bedroom, still shirtless and blowing out candles.

   "What are you doing?" Saguru asks, even as Kaito reaches for the light switch and there is no doubt that their encounter is over. He stops at Saguru's voice.

   Kaito's pupils are huge in the darkness, staring at him, wounded.

   "You don't want to." The words aren't accusing, but Saguru hears them that way regardless.

   "Yes I do," he insists, his voice hard. But he keeps the space between them, and can barely even look Kaito in the eyes. "I said I needed a minute, is that a problem?"

   "Of course not." Kaito leaves the candles as they are and comes to sit beside Saguru again. He settles against the headboard, his knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. "But I think you're freaking out. You don't want to have sex. It's fine." He smiles, small and hesitant and not at all reassuring. "I don't mind waiting until you're ready."

   That finally does it.

   "Don't lie to me," Saguru snaps, and Kaito flinches back like he's about to have his face bitten off. "Don't _patronize_ me, and _don't_ treat me like the woman in this relationship."

   For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then Kaito, like the idiot he is, tries to be sensible. "There _is_ no woman in this relationsh-"

   "It's not going to work, so it's time you did us both a favour and stopped trying," Saguru cuts him off, and somehow the fact that Kaito is looking an awful lot like a kicked puppy just makes him even more vicious. "You think I'll owe you if you _wait for me_ and buy me flowers and plane tickets, don't you? Well, you know what? I don't even want to go to _bloody_  Egypt."

   He gets up to storm out, to catch the first flight back to England without his Risk board or his stupid sex education shoebox or the shirt that's still on the floor on the other side of the bed, but Kaito grabs his wrist and stops him in his tracks.

   "This isn't about sex." He says it like it's supposed to mean something, but Saguru just snarls. He has never been so angry.

   "Oh, I think you'll find this is _very much_  about sex--"

   "This is about you thinking you can read my mind." After a moment of silence where Saguru fails to wrench his arm out of Kaito's grasp, or turn around and punch him, or do anything except go quiet and still and cold, Kaito adds, "Isn't it?"

  
-v-

  
   (In the end, Saguru didn't tell his therapist about Watson.

   He didn't tell her about how he has to take the hawk with him every time he leaves home for more than a day or so. He didn't tell her about the chart he keeps, evenly spaced and precise times for feeding. And he certainly didn't tell her about what happens when he runs late or forgets, and misses one of them - when his bird has to go hungry for even five minutes, ten seconds, and forty-three milliseconds too long.)  

**Author's Note:**

> just for the record since these things haven't been addressed yet, i really _really_ don't mean to imply that asexuality is related to mental illness/is a phobia in itself, or that any negative things said about it are accurate in the least. saguru is just bad at self-analysis. that attitude won't be sticking around forever.


End file.
